Sweet Daddy Professor
by ShatteredAngelWings
Summary: When Severus comes back with a child the summer Hermione's hired for the defense position, everyone is shocked. He convinces himself he doesn't need anyone but his son, seeing as the mother left them not shortly after giving birth, but Hermione manages to wiggle her way into his son's heart. Can she do the same for Severus? SS/HG
1. Chapter 1

**Sweet ****Daddy ****Professor**

One

Daddy Snape

He knew they whispering about the little boy on his hip, the blonde curls combed into submission for tonight's Sorting. Severus found he didn't care what the students or teachers thought of his child; they could rot in Hell with Voldemort for all he cared. He had Tristan and that was all that mattered; the little boy drooling on his shoulder was the center of his world.

"Hello, Severus," greeted a calm voice and he turned his head to find Hermione Granger, the new Defense teacher, standing there, dressed in simple black robes that were fitted modestly to her body. Her hair, tamed for this night only, gleamed tawny in the torchlight, pulled and wrestled into a French braid down her back that reached her knees. She was beaming at him and his child.

"Who's this?" she asked, waving her fingers at Tristan. "This is Tristan," Severus explained quietly, stroking the boy's soft hair, feeling him kick his feet slightly. Hermione conjured a handkerchief and dabbed at the drool on the baby's cheek; her cheeks flushing, she quickly tucked the cloth into Severus's pocket. "You're going to need it," was all she said as she let the baby curl his tiny, sweaty hands around her pointer finger.

"Where's the mother?" Severus groaned to himself. "She stepped out of the picture not long after the boy was born." Hastily apologizing, Hermione attempted to step back a little bit but only succeeded in tripping over the edge of her robes and falling flat on her butt.

He let a tiny smile of amusement catch across his lips before he leaned down and held out his hand. Wide-eyed, she gaped up at him with reddened cheeks. "Would you rather sit on the floor, Miss Granger?" he asked smoothly and was delighted to see her stutter something; her hand slid into his and it sent shockwaves down his spine. Tristan babbling in Severus's ear pulled him away from the shock of attraction and he yanked his arm back, bringing Hermione back to her feet with ease.

"You're very strong, Professor Snape," she said quietly as he eyeballed her openly, bouncing the boy on his hip. "Being a spy kept me fit," he replied, noticing she'd gained some weight that added to her womanly charms since the war. Her hands twisted, like she was nervous and he noticed the dotting of scars on the backs of her hands.

"Miss Granger," Severus found himself purring, stroking his son's hair gently, "would you be so kind as to conjure a high chair for Tristan? I seen to have my hands full at the moment."

Blinking at him, she did as she was told and a green-and-silver highchair with little plastic toys swirled into existence beside the Potion Master's chair. Chuckling slightly at her color choice, he sat the little boy down and Tristan almost immediately set about throwing the toys and squeezing the noisy plastic. When he threw a set of plastic car keys, it hit an invisible wall and danced in front of his eyes; he squealed loudly with delight.

"Interesting color choice," Severus murmured. Hermione let out a laugh, her tense shoulders relaxing. He found it very easy to talk to her; he was thankful that she'd grown out of the know-it-all phase. Much to his surprise, she told him what had become of her friends.

Ron and Lavender were due to be married in June; Luna took up an apprenticeship under Hagrid for Care of Magical Creatures; Neville was an aid for Herbology; Harry and Ginny were expecting their first child; and she, Hermione, single now, had been offered the Defense position.

"I still love Potions," she admitted, glancing about. Her hair looked golden when the light hit it. "And Charms." When she brushed her hand across her cheek, her sleeve slipped down to reveal silvery lines and a thick, puckered scar that read _Mudblood_. She glanced at him indifferently. "I'm not ashamed of it anymore," she explained, "I'm quite fond of it." She gave him a smile that made him stiffen slightly.

"And the other scars, Miss Granger?"

She looked him in the eyes. "I'm proud of them, too," she answered softly, never breaking eye contact. Something hit him in the head and he swung his gaze towards the direction; a toy wand lay next to his foot. Tristan babbled happily when his father picked it up but immediately quieted. "No throwing, Tristan," he said firmly.

When he turned back to Hermione, she was stroking the scars softly. "I'm not ashamed because I could've taken the permanent way out, suicide, Professor Snape. I didn't." He stared into her cinnamon-colored eyes, framed by long lashes. A smattering of freckles dusted her cheeks.

A loud explosion of chatter broke their conversation. First year gawked and gaped at the ceiling, the floating candles, the tables, the banners, everything.

Severus could hear Hermione say, as she was a first year so many years ago, that first night the Golden Trio came in, "It's enchanted to look like the sky. I read it in _Hogwarts: A History._" He reached over and pulled out her chair as she went to sit down; her cheeks went red and the blush crept down to the collar of her button up shirt and he wondered how far did the blush go.

Her ears were red like cherries and he wanted to just nibble them to see if they'd get even redder. She sank down gracefully and smiled up at him. "Thank you, Professor Snape."

"Your welcome, Miss Granger."

Another smile, this one as blinding as the morning sun. "Call me Hermione, please," she said. He bowed slightly. _Hermione indeed, _he mused as he slid into his seat and smiled at his son. Severus caught a glimpse of Hermione smiling almost lovingly at the child but he could barely contain his laughter when Tristan grabbed her hair and proceeded to play with it.

The first years scrambled for seats. Filch swung into the room, his dark, wary eyes scanning and then he hobbled out. Severus made a note to give the man some arthritis cream that soothed the aching in his bones.

As Albus rose, giving his first year speech, Severus found himself looking forward to the new school year with his son. And maybe, just maybe, Hermione Granger.


	2. Chapter 2

Sweet Professor

Two

Building a Bridge

Much to Hermione's surprise, Severus Snape was quite charming, with a dash of wit and humor, albeit a bit sharp and dark. He was so different than the man who taught her all those years ago. He smiled and chuckled and seemed generally more relaxed, human.

"I'll get him," she offered as the Sorting ended and Head Boy and Head Girl guided students to their rooms. Tristan had worn himself out playing and laid sleeping, mouth open, drooling in the most adorable way.

"If you don't mind," Severus responded quietly, picking up the boy's toys and Vanishing the high chair with a wave of his wand. Hermione scooped up her ex-teacher's son and stroked the soft, downy hair that curled all over his head. Maybe the boy was doing the "grouchy, snarky Potions Master" some good.

Her stomach twisted at the thought of children. Why had she been cursed so? Was it God's joke? "My son, Hermione, if you will," Severus spoke but she was reluctant to give up the beautiful baby.

Her heart ached viciously as she thought of Malfoy Manor and Bellatrix torturing her; turns out, being Crucioed that many times in such a short span, being beaten so fiercely, and the conditions she'd been living in had dropped her chances of fertility down to, oh, about zero percent. She knew she wasn't much of a maternal girl before the War but, with Voldemort gone, it seemed to the Gryffindor that everyone she knew was popping out babies.

And she'd never have the pleasure of doing so herself. "Hermione?" Ah, yes, Severus. She turned to him and he looked at her with something unreadable in his eyes. "Would you—"

"Walk Severus to his rooms?" mused a voice and Hermione turned, finding the Headmaster standing there, kind, blue eyes twinkling. If she didn't know any better, she would've thought he was up to something. Flashing a smile, she said, pleasantly, "Hello, Albus."

She heard a snort behind her but chose to ignore it, gently patting Tristan on the back while she rocked slowly, gently. He nestled deeper into her neck. "And who is this handsome young man?" asked the older wizard, a smile on his bearded face.

"Tristan, my son," Severus said. Hermione shot him a disapproving frown at his cold tone. "He's beautiful, isn't he?" she sighed, heart aching for something she could never have. "Yes. And when will you be having children, Miss Granger? Any special wiza—why the long face?"

"I can't have children." The whisper sounded broken and weak to her ears so she could only imagine how it must've sounded to her professors. "Oh, I'm terribly—" Albus began, looking a bit concerned and apologetic, but she cut him off, waving her hand flippantly.

"Bellatrix and those Snatchers did a number on me. My chances before, as infertility runs in my mother's side, weren't very strong." She shrugged, ignoring Severus's staring.

Forcing on a pleasant smile, she turned to him. "Shall we go, then? It was lovely seeing you, Albus." He chuckled and offered her a lemon drop. She dropped it into her pocket and the smile faltered the minute he gave her his back.

She couldn't get out of that place fast enough. Severus kept up with her, using long strides and, eventually, she slowed down, tension seeping out of her body as they walked down the corridor that led to the Slytherin's dungeons.

"I," Severus said, his voice quiet but nice, "had no idea, Hermione. I'm very sorry." She smiled. "It's fine. Besides, no man will want a woman who's infertile anyway. I need to focus on my teaching career." Though she tried to sound cheerful, she knew he didn't buy it.

"Hermione," he breathed as they walked close together, his hand brushing her hip, "I'd…" He cleared his throat. Brushed back his long hair with a thin, graceful hand that drew her attention away from walking. She could hear the murmur of his voice but didn't hear what he was saying; all she knew was that he was talking in that lovely voice of his and it sounded like dark chocolate, no, like something from one of her romance novels.

His hands had always fascinated her as a student and she'd always noticed how pale they were. Dotted with calluses from botched potions and fingernails stained from ingredients. They were sure and never faltered, so precise in anything he did, whether it was grading papers or slicing up Mandrake roots.

"Hermione."

She tuned back in and realized they were at his quarters. Cheeks flaming, she handed off Tristan to his father, who took the sleeping boy and rested him on his bony hip. "I really am sorry to hear about your misfortune. And having children shouldn't such a big deal in a witch's life."

Hermione shrugged.

"I just…want to be a mother, watch my child grow up and go to school and become successful," she said. Severus's dark eyes watched her, searching and probing and she felt her entire body heat up.

"You're very intelligent. Being a mother…well, that child would certainly have their hands full." He gave one of his rare smiles, which she'd only seen once or twice that evening, and unlocked the door. Kicking it open, he stuck his foot in the space between the frame and edge of the door and turned to her.

"Miss—"

He stopped. Turned a bit red in the cheeks. "_Hermione_, if you wish to…assist me in raising my son, or just visit…become friends even—" He made a strange face that made her laugh. "—Than I'd be happy, welcome it even. And the part about wizard's not wanting you because you're infertile?"

His heated look shot straight through her tummy. "That's complete and utter rubbish. Any wizard would be lucky to have such a lovely witch." He turned and nudged the door open with his knee.

"Goodnight, Hermione," Severus whispered over his shoulder and she thought she saw Tristan's hand wave at her in a farewell as the door closed.


	3. Chapter 3

Sweet Professor

Three

Headaches

Seven weeks into the new term, Severus, despite his hesitance, grew closer to Hermione. They chatted with tea at their hips about books and spells and potions while Tristan slept peacefully, only waking up when their conversations died down and Hermione was leaving.

He grew and grew more each day, resembling his mother in some ways but he was a happy, quiet baby with a stumbling vocabulary for his age. Of course, Snape wasn't all that surprise; according to his mother when he was ten, he'd developed like that too.

Severus learned Hermione had a Date Night, which was Friday. More than often, she'd return in a foul mood and deduct points faster than you could say Weasley Wizard Wheezes.

She looked beautiful when she went out, her hair tamed, her dresses enticing and flashing hints of skin, but he personally thought she looked the most beautiful when she wasn't trying, when her face was smudged with quill ink, hair wild and pulled absently into a headband, wearing sweats as she graded and corrected essays.

"He's a sexist, big-headed pig, just like every guy," Hermione grumbled as she sipped her tea, hair pulled into a half-assed bun. Her cat socks wiggled. "I mean, seriously? How do you have a conversation with a woman while staring down her dress the _entire _time?"

Severus gave her a look. "The kind that wants to get in her knickers," he replied, crossing out the word _unicorn hair _with a slash of red ink. The student's paper looked like it had been butchered. His temples throbbed dangerously and he groaned, rubbing at his forehead.

"Severus, come here." She smiled down at him and he was compelled to do so, climbing up beside her. She set down the cup and told him to lay his head on her lap; he was somewhat reluctant to do so.

"Mmm," she hummed as her soft fingers scraped across his scalp, soothing away the vicious headache. He relaxed and closed his eyes; the fire crackled quietly and her hands were relaxing him, the tension set into his bones slipping away.

"You're good at this, Hermione," he said softly, his face pressed into her sweats. They smelled like syrup. "My dad used to get tons of headaches," she explained, using her nails now. He was a puddle of goo when her fingernails skimmed down his neck, to his shoulders. She worked the heels of her hands into his back and he felt the pressure lifting, slowly working out the kinks.

"You're very tense," she told him softly as her hands went lower. His back was a mess of knots and tension, a nasty side effect from the Cruciatus. "Daddy?" He looked up and found Tristan standing there, looking lost.

"Hi, Tristy," Hermione cooed and her hands left Severus's back; Tristan padded up to them curiously and he jumped. His little feet stepped on Severus's back. "What're you doing?"

"I was making daddy's back tension go away," Hermione explained, tucking the little boy into her lap. Tristan's head swung towards his father, who wore a content expression. "Why do you have back pain?"

"Cruciatus."

"What's that?"

"It's a very bad spell. It's unforgivable. You go to a very bad place if you use it." Severus stroked his son's downy curls gently, ignoring the bleeding papers on the table. It was quiet for several minutes before Tristan said, "Is Hermione my mommy?"

She looked at Severus with wide eyes. "No," Severus said quietly, lowering his eyes, "she isn't." "Then where is she?" Tristan wiggled impatiently.

"She left me. You and Hermione are all I have and, for that, I'm grateful," the sour wizard whispered, pressing a tender kiss to his son's head.

All his feelings swirled as he thought back to the rejection, to finding the hospital bed empty and his son in the nursery; she hadn't taken him. All her things were gone, too; it was like she'd never been there.

But, as the weeks passed, he found a hairspray that had been hers. Things started surfacing; a bottle of hand cream in the gap between his bed and wall, a mascara underneath his dresser, an earring in Tristan's room. People called him constantly, demanding to know where she was. He threw out the telephone and changed his number.

People started showing up. Banging on his door. They'd wake up Tristan and he'd scream his little lungs out, crying for his father. Severus tried to get the Ministry to stop it but they turned a blind eye; they could care less about Snape and his Bastard Son.

He packed up his things and vanished, heading to one of the many homes he had. He settled down there, raised Tristan until a letter from Albus asked if he could come back. He knew they'd be welcomed and so, he packed again and they left.

"Severus?"

Hermione shook his shoulder. Her worried face hovered above his and she smelled like calamine tea. Tristan was between them, asking him if he was all right, asking why daddy wasn't saying anything. "Daddy?" "Severus?"

"Forgive me," he apologized quietly, "I-I…I was lost in…in a memory."

"The bitch that left you?" Hermione asked with a flare of anger. Tristan stared at her, wide-eyed. "Hermione, please refrain from teaching Tristan profanity," Severus told her. "Besides, that's my job," he teased. She cracked a weak smile as she flopped down. The clock bonged outside and then she rose, gathering her quill and books and sending her teacup to the kitchen.

"Severus," she said softly, shifting from foot to foot at his door, looking up at him with her big, brown eyes. She looked nervous, like a girl asking out her crush. Severus had sent Tristan to bed with a glass of tea and a kiss to the head so he decided to escort Hermione to the door.

She hugged her books with a tight grip, knuckles white. Her eyes flickered down, at her feet, and then back up at him. She bounced between the hallway and inside Severus's quarters anxiously.

"If I were her, I'd never leave you. You're an amazing man, Severus. You—" She closed her eyes and her lips hit his cheek rather stickily.

"—Are the bravest man I've ever known."

He watched her shapely bum scamper down the hall. _Weasley let go of such a catch, _he mused as he sank back into his seat and began to painstaking process of grading essays again.


End file.
